Wednesday, August 13, 2014

This morning was not good, more like my stomach and intestines were on
separate amusement park rides -- and I was not and am not amused.
Nothing like trying to sleep while both exits are gurgling and jammed
with impending spewage. I couldn't even drag myself out of bed long
enough to answer the door for Kirk, the UPS hunk, and accept delivery. I
was groggy and afraid he might be forced to accept a delivery he
wouldn't want and might come to rue.

Just the thought of bitter rue sets my insides spinning on the Vomit Comet.

I
did manage to get up and drink some cold chai. Probably not a great
choice, but a choice that has stayed down so far. That's a good thing
because I have been running on empty and nearly inside out and empty.
Then I decided something filling and substantial would be a good choice,
so steak, rare. It has so far remained inside and is not making that
gurgling about to reappear noise at either end.

I tried doing a
little stitching on an eyeglass case, but that didn't last long. Sitting
up made me feel vertiginous and unsettled. Then I decided that sitting
up would be essential to eating so here I am, ears at the ready for
sounds of internal derangement, and typing up something (anything) to
keep my mind off my gastrointestinal chaos.

Btw, the above photo is a dog worshiping at the porcelain Idol. I feel his distress.

On
the plus side, or at least the side that is less health related, I have
gone through almost all the boxes and cannot find my loaf pans. They
were good quality metal loaf pans, but they are still AWOL. Since I was
feeling nostalgic and remembering my Gram's flannel hash (the pot roast
version of corned beef hash), I bought 2 new glass bread pans and a
lovely pan just for making hash, which is basically leftover meat
chopped fine and combined with diced potato (freshly made or leftover)
and some gravy combined and put into the oven at 350 to bake. The
bottom, sides, and top should be crusty (without being burned) and the
insides smooth and well melded. Now all I need to do is buy a pot roast,
cook it for dinner, and put together my flannel hash. I might even do
corned beef hash (with an egg on top) if I can find a suitable corned
beef brisket.

Right now, I'm getting ready to bake some
fruitcakes. Don't groan. They are delicious, especially when the fruit
has marinated for 2 weeks in bourbon (or whiskey if you prefer), added
to the batter, baked, and then wrapped in cheesecloth soaked in bourbon
for a couple of months. I might even use rum if the bourbon goes well. A
really good fruitcake needs to age and successive layers of liquor
soaked cheesecloth to get the right flavor and moistness. That's what
most people don't get about really good fruitcake, the mellowing, the
liquor, and the deft hand with a good balance between cake and fruit. I
do so love fruitcake.

I was tossing out some trash from my mail
run yesterday when Kevin stopped me and told me, frozen fruit popsicle
in a tube in hand, that he was off to Iowa to get his dog, Forrest,
back. It seems the neighbors across the street from him left at the same
time that Forrest disappeared. Their vacation was over and they were
headed back to Iowa, quite possibly with his 7-month-old Newfoundland. I
pity the people if they stole Forrest. Kevin is not a forgiving man
when it comes to stealing his dog. You can have his fiancee or his son,
but not his dog. I don't know if he made it home yet. I'll check later.

Well,
this little update has burned through what ragged strength remains to
me right now and I'm going to go try some more chai and possibly a few
more bites of steak to keep the rest company -- and hopefully keep it
tightly packed and digesting properly. I need to go out and get some
yogurt to refresh the gut bugs to put the process back on track.